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THE PANTALOON.

The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.-As you like it.

Shakspeare's sixth age answers to that which is usually denominated old age. According to Proclus, as we have seen, this period commenced at fifty-five, and ended with sixty-eight years. Cicero, when he had attained to the age of threescore, wrote his celebrated treatise "De Senectute," as a consolatory epistle to Atticus, who was of the same age, and with whom he had lived in habits of the strictest friendship "e'en from their boyish days.”

The word "pantaloon" was, in the time of our bard, as it is in the present day, expressive of part of a man's dress. In the Italian comedy, a thin emaciated old man, habited in pantaloons and slippers, was called by way of distinction Il Pantalone; hence it may be inferred that the name originated in the garment. In all the dramas of Shakspeare the term is used but twice, and in both cases it is intended as a satire upon the character to which it is applied; thus, in " Taming the Shrew," the poet says "That we might beguile the old

Pantaloon."

The employment which the artist has given the Pantaloon is truly characteristic of Shakspeare's description, "With spectacles on nose." So eagerly intent does he seem on his book, as to be entirely negligent of every other object; the manner in which he grasps it, intimates that his soul is wrapped up in the study of his contents, while his countenance exhibits him "with study pale, and midnight vigils spent."

His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide

For his shrunk shank.

There should probably be a comma after hose, which would strengthen the sarcastic irony aimed at the avarice which has saved the hose till they are become almost useless, by being a world too wide for his shrunk shank." Avarice is but too

frequently an attendant upon old age, and has been the general reproach of this period of life:-Sunt morosi, et anxii, et iracundi, et difficiles senes: si qærimus, etiam avari.— Cicero de Senectute.

At this age man's outward form contracts, and every movement of the limbs is performed with difficulty and languor. The circulation of the fluids becomes sluggish and interrupted; perspiration is diminished; the nutritious juices are less abundant, and being rejected by the parts already too dense, they can communicate no fresh supplies. Old age is, therefore, not so much to be dreaded in itself, as in the manifold wretchedness that accompanies it.

Man's prime of life posts on with double speed
Precipitate: a ghastly train succeeds,

Diseases, labor, heart oppressing age,

Then death with ruthless hand shuts up the scene.

Wakefield's Virgil.

His big manly voice

Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.

With the contraction of the body, the voice necessarily becomes feeble and impaired; its debility is manifested by that inharmonious cadence which is ever observable previously to the age of puberty, and to which Shakspeare probably alludes, by "childish treble." The general state of imbecility which our dramatic poet has applied to old age, is very feelingly described in the popular poem entitled, "The Grave :"

Ah! where's the lifted arm

The strength of actions, and the force of words,
The well-turn'd period, and the well-turn'd voice,
With all the lesser ornaments of phrase?

Ah! fled for ever, as they ne'er had been.

Another pathetic description of the immortal Shakspeare, spoken, indeed, upon a different occasion, is but too commonly applicable to this season of life :

And now my tongue's use is to me no more
Than an unstringed viol, or a harp;

Or like a cunning instrument, cas'd up,
Or, being open, put into his hands

That knows no touch to tune the harmony.

Richard II.

Notwithstanding the foregoing gloomy representations of this period of life, yet we are assured, as well from our own experience, as from the testimony of the best writers, that it is by no means deficient in solid happiness to those who have performed its prior acts with consistent dignity and honor; for it is frequently seen, that though old age disqualifies a man for the very active scenes of the world, yet amidst the decay of corporeal powers, the faculties of the mind remains strong and vigorous. Virtuous old age, moreover, carries with it an authority, and commands a respect, which makes it preferable to all the pleasures of youth ::

Though old, he still retain'd

His manly sense, and energy of mind.
Virtuous and wise he was, but not severe;
He still remembered that he once was young;
His easy presence check'd no easy joy.

Armstrong.

BELL ROCK ALBUM.

All strangers visiting the Bell Rock light-house are presented with an album, in which they enter their names, with any remarks they may choose to make. Among the numerous insertions is the following:

PHAROS LOQUITUR.

Far on the bosom of the deep,
O'er these wild shelves my watch I keep;

A ruddy gem of changeful light,
Round on the dusky brow of night:
The seaman bids my lustre hail,
And scorns to strike his timorous sail.

Walter Scott, July 30, 1814,